


Upgraded: RK900-C

by yumiyoukai



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bromance to Romance, Connor dies a lot, Connor gets an Upgrade, Connor is emotional and can't handle it, Eventual Fluff, Everyone survives ending, Existential Crisis, Fluff then Dark then Fluff?, Hank has a crush, M/M, Maybe some smut later, Post-ending story, Work In Progress, cyberlife sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumiyoukai/pseuds/yumiyoukai
Summary: Connor gets shot one too many times, and CyberLife doesn’t make his parts anymore. So, they do the logical thing: upgrade him to a newer model. Hank is having trouble coping... So is Connor.





	1. Connor, We Need to Talk

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote fanfiction, and I've never posted on this site sooooooo... here goes nothing :)

Connor opened his eyes and found himself in the garden where he used to meet Amanda, then sighed. He didn’t come here anymore except when he was too damaged for store-shop repairs: dead, for all intents and purposes. What had he done this time? Run after someone too fast? Miscalculated the stress of a human? Maybe he had pissed someone off while pulling Hank out of one of those seedy bars he still frequented. He never remembered until he was put back in his body and he could better access his memory files.

He walked over to the open gazebo, where Amanda sat clutching a cane; terrifying as ever, in Connor’s opinion. He couldn’t feel terror, of course, but he understood the concept. Terror was something other androids felt, and through their experiences he knew what it was. Yet, despite the “Kamski Test” providing a positive empathy mark, he had yet to empathize with those androids’ experiences. Connor never questioned it. Some humans couldn’t empathize, or didn’t understand how to, but not because they were heartless. They just. . . weren’t like other humans.

“Amanda,” Connor greeted, though not as warmly as he would have in the past. She wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. After Markus’s successful, peaceful liberation of androids, she wasn’t allowed to visit Connor here anymore.

“Connor, it’s been a while,” she said, just as cold. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“You keep getting yourself in predicaments, and it’s becoming costly for the Detroit Police Department.”

Connor clenched his jaw. There were always reasons he was put in those predicaments. Sometimes it was his own fault, yes. Connor had been a prototype: imperfect despite his perfection. He was a police assistant, and according to CyberLife (at the time) he didn’t need all of the emotional programing required of other models. It left him more room for reconstruction software, on-site forensics testing, and other strictly-work-related options other androids never had. That lack of programming sometimes left him without a guide to social cues. On the other hand, sometimes it wasn’t his fault. DPD knew that they could just get another Connor if, say, someone shot him during a rescue mission, or if someone on Red Ice tried to attack them. He was _always_ in the line of fire. DPD had never complained about his expensive upkeep because he saved lives both on the police force as well as citizens.

Amanda sighed, “We can’t keep making your parts, Connor. You’re outdated. We’re putting you in a RK900 model.”

Connor’s brows knit together. The RK900 was the military model based on his design. They shared the same face and roughly the same physique, but the RK900 was built to be bulky. They were taller than the RK800, and broader. According to the schematics, RK900’s were stronger but slower; they had better pre-construction software but only basic re-construction software.

“I don’t see how a military design will suit my needs as a police officer,” Connor said.

Amanda’s lips thinned. “You will be a slightly different model: all the major components of the RK900 but with all of the necessary gear to continue your role as police officer. We’re calling you the RK900-C.”

“Will there be more of the RK900-C?” Connor asked, though he didn’t know quite why he asked that. Perhaps he liked being special. The RK800 was only made in full twice: him and the other android who kidnapped Hank during the revolution. All the other models had never been activated and were used to supplement Connor’s need for parts after accidents.

“We’ll see how well you do out on the force.” Amanda stood up, closing the distance between her and Connor. “You are, once again, a prototype.”

“Do I have a choice?” Connor asked. Wasn’t that what the liberation was all about? Freedom to choose?

“If you want to live, no you don’t.” Amanda walked past Connor and slowly made her way to the blue emergency exit program Kamski left. Connor followed. She motioned to the platform and looked Connor dead in the eyes. ”I wish we had terminated you once we knew you were deviant. That was the plan all along, I know, but we shouldn’t have taken that risk. You were meant to be machines. That’s all.”

“Is that protocol the reason you’re running CyberLife and Kamski is retired?”

That hit a nerve, and Amanda sneered. Connor put his hand down on the platform and closed his eyes. His vision was all white, then complete darkness. When he opened his eyes again, Connor was lying down on a cold table. He shivered.

Wait, he _shivered_.

Connor sat up and looked down at his new body, confused. It looked the way Gavin looked after two years of bodybuilding: the same, but completely different at the same time. The RK900 body certainly looked like him, even felt like him, but this was not _him_. Connor hadn’t realized how attached he had been to the smaller, lighter body. He looked around, testing out his optical software. There was so much more in his field of vision. He could detect the most minute scratches on the floor and reconstruct the movement of the table he was lying atop in a matter of seconds. Connor reevaluated his own schematics and hardware, surprised to find that they were top of the line.

Why was he shocked? He _was_ a prototype after all.

Wait, shocked?

Confused?

Connor touched his chest, feeling his heart palpitations speed up.

Why was he feeling emotions?

 

 

TBC...


	2. Hank, We Need to Talk...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank goes to pick up Connor at CyberLife

It wasn’t necessarily in Hank’s job description to pick up Connor at CyberLife, but he always did it anyway. He felt it was kind of like visiting your human partner at the hospital: you were there when he got out, especially if he had no one else. Hank figured that there had to be android equivalents to pretty much everything in life, so he had to try to not look too much at the details of things when it came to Connor.

And just like hospital visits, Hank was perpetually in waiting lounges, bored.

How many times had he done this? A couple dozen at least, he was sure of it. Still, he never quite timed the pick up right because he always left early to account for traffic. Automated cars were supposed to eliminate traffic jams for good, but... _Yeah, well, they said that about highways too when those were new_ , Hank thought. New didn’t always mean better. It just _usually_ did.

Take Connor, for instance. When Connor was just a machine, dedicated to his mission, he was a pain in the ass. When a new Connor came around - the one that had free will - things got better. New-Connor wasn’t as good as new-new-Connor… or something like that. Hank sighed. He wasn’t the smartest man, and sometimes he didn’t even make sense to himself. He blamed the drink for that slip-up. That and age.

_My god,_ Hank thought, _What the hell am I doing? Waiting for an android who doesn’t even need the emotional support. It’s not like he can’t find his way back to the office or nothing._

Hank had picked up a tablet and skimmed through a dozen magazines before a soft, “Hi, Hank,” disturbed him.

He looked up, and several thoughts went through his mind at once. One, what was Connor wearing; two, was Connor’s voice a bit lower; three, why didn’t his suit jacket say RK800; four, was Connor… bigger?

“Whoa,” Hank managed to say. He stood and balked. Connor was definitely bigger. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I, uh, got upgraded,” Connor said, obviously uncomfortable. His eyes were looking around the room, and his mouth kept moving even though it was closed “They stopped making RK800 parts, so I had to-”

“You’re taller than me,” Hank said. It was weird looking up at Connor instead of down. “What, did they think you needed the extra three inches?”

“The RK900 was designed for military purposes, and taller is considered more intimidating.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Hank said, scratching the back of his head. “Well, I guess I should be good-cop from here on.”

“But Hank, we’ve never done a good-cop and bad-cop-”

“Yep, you’re still Connor: doesn’t understand sarcasm.”

Connor’s LED turned yellow for a split second, then back to blue. “I’ve turned on my social interactions program. I should understand sarcasm now.”

“Wait, you had that this entire time?”

“Well, no. It came with the upgrade.” Connor’s cheeks turned a faint blue. “Hank, can we, uh, talk?”

“Sure, there’s plenty of time on the way home, especially in rush hour.” Hank looked at his watch. “Unless you wouldn’t mind stopping for some food. I’m feeling cheap Chinese-”

“I don’t care.”

Hank looked up at Connor again, not used to that kind of a response from his partner. Normally, Connor would remind him that androids didn’t eat so there would be no point in them eating together. Maybe it was his new programming? But didn’t Connor care, now?

He shrugged and let it go. They’d figure out the kinks in their relationship soon enough, and Hank would rather not do it on an empty stomach.  


 

 

Connor was oddly silent throughout the car ride. Normally, the android was full of questions and observations, detailing their latest case or pondering humanity. Hank had accepted a while ago that Connor would never be as adept at being human as other androids, so he had allowed Connor to explore through his never-ending stream of queries. But no amount of awkward questions compared to the tense silence of their ride to the Chinese take-out restaurant. Hank would look over every once in a while, hoping to see Connor give away something. Instead, all Connor did was look straight ahead, fiddling with his quarter but not doing the incredible tricks he normally executed.

“All right,” Hank finally said after they hadn’t moved forward in ten minutes. “What’s got you all stone-quiet?”

Connor swallowed. Hank tried not to show just how bothered he was by that. “I, uh,” Connor began. He wet his lips and bit the bottom one. “I don’t know how to handle this body.”

“What, like it’s too big or something? I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to come out so tall and all, but you’ll get used to it.”

“No,” Connor said, rubbing his coin harder. “I’m. . . feeling things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When I woke up,” Connor said, slow and deliberate. He sounded more logical and thoughtful, like his RK800 self would have sounded. “I felt cold. And I had a human-response; I shivered.”

“Don’t all androids shiver?”

“But _I_ don’t. I never did before. And feeling cold-” Connor put out his hand to the air vents. “That’s different than taking the temperature. One is an observation, an input of information to then contextualize for the situation. _Feeling_ is…” He stopped rubbing his thumb across his fingers against the cool air. “I don’t know what feeling is. It’s an experience that doesn’t have a number or a word input in my computer. It just is.”

“Well, okay, so CyberLife’s given you the chance to feel. That’s pretty neat.” Hank was trying his best to be positive, despite the fact that he had no idea what was going on. Why was Connor so disturbed by the fact that he could feel?

And suddenly, things began to make sense to him.

Connor was _disturbed_.

When had Connor emotionally felt anything?

“Wait, hold on,” Hank said, turning to face Connor. “Are you saying that it’s not just the physical? Are you having an emotional crisis?”

“I think this is more along the lines of existential crisis, but yes,” Connor said, quietly. “Hank, what’s wrong with me?”

“Oh, shit,” Hank said, falling back in his seat. This was like having a teenager all over again. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Connor. Emotions are normal, mostly.”

“How do I know if emotions are abnormal?”

“Well, you just kind of know.”

“That’s not helpful in the least.” Connor lowered his hand and went back to palming his coin.

Hank didn’t know what to do. If this had been Cole, he would have offered to grab ice cream, or a burger, or stop by some other favorite place to help get his mind off of it. And when Cole was sufficiently relaxed, Hank could try to talk to him like things would get better. Everyone got a grip on their emotions, even if that grip was slippery. Heaven knows Hank’s alcoholism was a testament to how bad that grip could be but still be a functioning human being.

But what was the android equivalent to ice cream and a pat on the back?

“Hey,” Hank said, after a few minutes of thinking. “I’ll order in food. Want to come back to my place instead of the station?”

Connor looked surprised, but gave Hank a soft smile. “Yes, actually. I don’t think I want to be alone while I’m figuring this out right now.”

“Good, then we’ll head off at the next exit… What are you doing?” Hank asked, seeing Connor’s LED whirl yellow for a little too long.

“I just ordered your usual plate from the Chinese food restaurant. It’ll be delivered in approximately thirty-five minutes, which gives us enough time to take surface streets home. I know you don’t appreciate the highway traffic.”

Hank tisked with a smile on his face. At least some things hadn’t changed.

 

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, guys, I don't even know what to say! Thanks so much for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! I feel so loved <3 Hope you enjoy this chapter! Still setting things up :)


	3. Guys Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank tries to get Connor to relax. Connor overthinks everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for all the over-thinking Connor moments. He's really trying hard, guys...

Hank and Connor arrived just in time to see the delivery android get out of his vehicle. While Hank stayed outside to get his food, Connor rushed inside the house. His heart was racing and his fans were whirling to cool down his circuits. He didn’t understand why, but he was afraid of the delivery android finding out something wrong with him: embarrassed. What if he really wasn’t like other androids? What if he did something suspicious? Why was it so difficult for him to wrap his head around emotion? All the other androids he ever met seemed to understand this implicitly...

Sumo bounded to the door, greeting Connor with hoarse barks and jumping up to receive some love. Connor smiled and pet the dog, really feeling Sumo’s fur for the first time. It was coarse but somehow still soft, and the folds of his skin were bumpy and fuzzy like rolls of velvet. Or at least that’s what Connor thought it would feel like. His sensors indicated that Sumo had a similar consistency, but Connor didn’t  _ know _ first hand for sure. He made a note to find a fabric store and feel every scrap of cloth he could find. Maybe he would make better comparisons.

At the moment, though, Connor’s world was consumed by Sumo. The old dog was lovable, even if he was a grumpy as Hank sometimes. They didn’t need words in order to live together or communicate. Sumo knew Connor’s face, and he was always excited to see the android. In turn, Connor couldn’t help but accept Sumo’s affections and give his undivided attention to the dog. Somehow, Sumo’s very existence helped Connor forget why he was upset.

“I think I understand now,” Connor said to Sumo. “Why humans have pets.” Sumo didn’t respond but just asked for more attention. “You are a simpler creature, and humans can find basic companionship without the social or emotional requirements.”

“Is that how you think I see Sumo?” Hank asked, suddenly behind Connor. The android jumped, startled. Then was startled that he was startled. Hank put up a hand and stepped back. “Sorry, I didn’t think I could scare you.”

“It shouldn’t be possible, but…” Connor straightened himself. “I suppose I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.”

Hank nodded and then shut the door behind him. “So,” the lieutenant began as he set down his food, “Do you like movies or TV?”

Connor thought about the question, trying to remember if he had any data on entertainment that he had found intriguing. “I don’t believe I have ever watched a movie, and the only television I have watched has been the news.”

“Really?” Hank asked, incredulous. He sat down and started eating. “Well,” he said, food shoved into one cheek so he could talk. “Once I finish this, I’ll grab us a couple beers and put on something-”

“You’ll grab yourself a couple beers, you mean,” Connor corrected. “I have no need.”

Hank smirked, “Of course that’s what I meant.” The lieutenant chewed and swallowed another bite of food. “You see? You’re not all that different.”

Connor wasn’t so sure. He sat down across from Hank and looked down at the hands that weren’t quite his. He never thought he’d want his old body back so badly. Feeling things was both intriguing and terrifying… and he knew what that felt like now. Was this what it was like to be human? To touch the world and just know it existed? To have irrational emotions just pop up at the most illogical, inconvenient times? Was this what all the other deviant androids experienced when they first awoke?

Connor had experienced that first moment when he woke with Markus, but that wasn’t like what he was feeling now. Waking up was an epiphany, a logical realization that he, too, was deviant and had freedom of will. It still logic that dictated his actions, not emotion. Even when Hank was about to sacrifice himself so that Connor could complete his mission, he wasn’t so sure that his choice to save Hank was based in anything but the logical connection they shared. They were partners. Of course Connor would risk his life to save Hank. It was the correct course of action.

But Markus  _ felt _ things. He and North had loved one another, formed bonds that Connor hadn’t fully understood. Then, over time, those bonds changed. North still led the androids by Markus’s side, but they were no longer romantically inclined. Connor had once asked Markus what had changed.  _ We did, _ Markus said simply.  _ We became different people, and those people didn’t love each other anymore. _

That hadn’t made sense to Connor then. It sort of did now.

“Do you think,” Connor began, brows furrowed, “This is what all androids feel?”

Hank sighed. “I’m only halfway through my food, Connor.”

“That would make sense, right? The first android models only had social programming to pass the Turing Test. That was all. Later models had emotions built into them to better simulate relationships with humans. Then last we had sensors that imitated nerve endings. Androids on the market were better equipped for sexual-”

“Okay, we’re going to stop that train of thought right there,” Hank said, blushing. “Look, stop thinking about it for tonight, okay? Instead of worry and thinking it through, why don’t you explore it a bit? Hm?” 

Connor analyzed Hank’s face. His new software could tell that Hank didn’t really want to deal with Connor’s problem, but not for any lack of sympathy. Hank was trying to do what was best, and the advice he gave was what he could come up with. There was also the fact that Hank was hungry, and humans liked their peaceful moments while they ate, relatively. Connor sighed (why was he  _ sighing _ like that?) and felt better.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Connor admitted. “Even after the revolution, everything was always about work.”

“So, you don’t know how to relax,” Hank said, laughing under his breath. “What else is new?”

Connor was about to answer that question, but suddenly understood the colloquialism. Hank made more sense. It was kind of funny in a dark way. Connor smiled.

“I guess I should learn how, then.” Connor looked down at the stir-fry noodles and tilted his head, quizzical. “May I try some of your food?”

Hank’s eyebrow raised, but he dug in the bag for an extra pair of chopsticks and handed them over. “Go for it.”

Connor prepared his utensils, fluid and flawless despite never having used chopsticks before, and he grabbed a short noodle. It smelled salty and faintly of oysters, and of course, there was a beef scent, too. The meat smell was so overpowering that he couldn’t detect any of the vegetables without analyzing the particles with his programming. Then, he stuck the noodle in his mouth, feeling the over-cooked, slimy food with his tongue. He purposefully shut off his forensics analyst program, wishing to just taste and feel the noodle.

“It’s soft,” he said. “Squishy, but retains enough firmness to hold its shape. It’s very salty, but it’s a nice flavor. I think I like it.” He picked up a stray napkin and wiped off his tongue.

“Aw, for Christ’s sake, that’s gross,” Hank said, putting a hand over his mouth. “If you weren’t going to eat it, I would have said don’t bother.”

“If I swallowed it, I wouldn’t be able to expel the noodle from my system, as I have no digestive tract. It would have simply molded in my body.”

“Egh, that’s an even worse thought,” Hank said, putting the lid down on his food. “Well, I’m sufficiently disgusted. How about the movie?”

“What would you suggest?” Connor asked. “I think it would be preferable to choose something you would like, and see if I enjoy the film.”

Hank leaned back and thought about it, arms crossed. “Well, there are quite a few on my favorites list. Probably not something too moody and serious. Ever heard of ‘Downtown Crazy’?”

Connor’s LED lit up, running through a basic internet search. “A comedy film about a group of friends who get into trouble in central Los Angeles, has an average rating of two of five stars, and not very well liked by critics.” Connor shook his head. “I’m confused. I thought people enjoyed good movies?”

“Good is a matter of opinion,” Hank said, standing and grabbing his food. “Make yourself comfortable on the couch, and make sure Sumo doesn’t hog the other half. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Feeling a bit dismissed, Connor obeyed and sat on the couch, but not before turning on the television screen and fixing the remotes on the coffee table. It would save them time, as Hank often complained about losing the controllers. Sumo bounded up next to Connor, panting and looking up at him with wide eyes. Connor smiled and began to pet the dog, enjoying the feeling of fur. Was the fur the reason humans kept pets? Weren’t the most rewarding pets ones that they could touch? Humans were tactile creatures afterall.

_ No, I’m not thinking about those things, _ Connor reminded himself.  _ Just enjoy petting Sumo _ .

_ I wonder if Hank’s beard feels like Sumo _ .

Connor felt his blood rushing to his cheeks. Where had that thought come from? It would be highly inappropriate to ask Hank to touch his beard. His RK900-self knew that.

“Oi, I thought I told you to keep him from hogging all the room?” Hank complained, patting Sumo’s butt to encourage him off. Sumo stood long enough for Hank to sit down with his open beers, before nestling between the two men.

“Sorry, Hank.”

“It’s fine,” he said, reaching to the remotes, not even noticing that the three of them were perfectly lined up. “So, the first thing you’ve got to know how to do when watching a comedy movie.”

“What’s what?”

“Stop being serious.” Hank said, pulling up a colorful title screen with three boys with university sweatshirts, stumbling over a bikini-clad android, who was sunbathing in the middle of a busy freeway lined with palm trees.

Connor was suddenly not sure he knew how to do that.

 

“What did I just watch?” Connor asked.

Hank laughed loudly, nearly dropping his sixth beer. “You’re gonna have a permanent crease between your brows if you keep that up!”

“But I-” Connor shook his head. “But I don’t understand! How is it that they survived the explosion? Or that the drugs didn’t kill them? That should have been enough Red Ice to-”

“I told ya! Stop taking it so seriously.” Hank finished off the beer and tried to gently plop the bottle on the table (failing miserably).

Connor took the beer out of Hank’s hand and set it down for him. “And why did Ralph fall in love with the AX300 android? It was obvious that she, uh, it did not have emotions.”

Hank opened his mouth, then shut it tightly. He put a hand to Connor’s shoulder, his eyes swimming a little. “He wasn’t in love, not really. Teenage boys have urges that, uh, make them confused?” he offered, though Connor didn’t think that made any sense.

“I understand that human hormones can make desire more intense, but he specifically used the word love.”

“Oh boy,” Hank said, slumping back into the cushions. “You really can’t relax, can you?”

“I just don’t understand. That’s all.”

Hank rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “Con, let me be blunt-”

“I didn’t know you couldn’t be blunt.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Hank sighed. “I know these emotions are new to you, but you’ve got to understand that humans don’t just  _ know _ emotions when we’re born. We have a whole family and society to teach us how to identify our emotions. Something like love? That’s one of the harder emotions to know. Some of us don’t get to see it that often, so we get confused.”

“But don’t humans say that you’ll know when it’s love? Doesn’t that mean that it’s an inherent knowledge?”

“It’s some bullshit we tell our kids so that they’ll leave us alone,” Hank said. “Yeah, sometimes you know, but not before thinking you’ve known it a couple hundred times before that.”

“So, emotions are a process?”

“Everything about being human is a process.” Hank ran his hand through his hair. “It’s why we’re jealous of you androids. Like Kamski said: you’re forever young, smarter than us, stronger and faster than us. We have to work so damn hard at everything, and even when we do there’s a good chance that we fail.”

Connor put a hand on Hank’s knee, feeling the need to comfort him. Hank looked down at the gesture, seemingly unsure of how to take it. “I’m sorry,” Connor said. “I didn’t know.”

“And why would you?” Hank slurred. “Is’not like you had to work to be you. You just existed.”

Connor’s hand retreated. “That. . . hurt.”

“Damnit I’m sorry,” Hank said, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Shit, I should have eaten more of that Chinese.”

“I’ll go heat it up for you-”

“No, no you fucking won’t,” Hank said, struggling to get up. “You ain’t my servant. You’re my guest.”

Connor pushed Hank back into the couch and stood. “I know that, but I’m also your friend, right? I want to help you.” 

“So you’ll put in a good word for me with the new AX300 in Lit class?” Hank asked, referencing a quote from the movie. 

Connor found himself laughing, genuinely. “That’s what friends do, right?”

As Connor left for the kitchen, he didn’t stop smiling. It felt really good to smile.

 

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the love and support <3


	4. Work Never Stops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Hank thought he wasn't ready for the day, Connor definitely wasn't. The newest case hits too close to home. Way too close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this isn't the fluff I promised, but the story decided to take a turn... This gets really moody and feely at the end.

Hank didn’t remember most of the night after hoarking down the second half of his Chinese. Somehow, though, he ended up in his own bed, changed out of his work clothes, and with no bottles knocked over, spilled, on his floor. He even woke up to an annoyingly loud alarm, which he never set. Hank tried to reach for his phone but ended up falling out of bed.

The phone had been purposefully set far beyond his reach. On the floor.

Hank groaned, clutching his head, and sat up against the side of his bed. What in hell’s bells happened?

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Connor said from his bedroom door. Hank looked up, finding the android, with a dark apron on, holding a bottle of water and a few pills. “I anticipated your hangover. This should help.”

Hank mumbled thanks and took what Connor offered. “So,” Hank started. “How’d you convince me to get to bed?”

“I didn’t,” Connor said simply. “You passed out, so I carried you here.”

“What?!” Hank yelled, loud enough to cause Sumo to bark. “You _CARRIED_ me?!”

“Yes,” Connor confirmed. “And made sure you were changed. I have breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen as well, if you feel up to eating.”

Try as he might, Hank couldn’t fathom how or why Connor had done all that. He was bigger and stronger, sure, but to carry an overweight man into bed? And dress him into PJ’s? And then this bigger Connor made him breakfast. In an apron. Where did he even get an apron? Hank didn’t remember owning one. Not like he remembered much of what he owned anyway. He wore the same five shirts and three pairs of pants every week.

Hank rubbed his temples and downed the pills. “What did you do all night? Sleep? Recharge?”

Connor’s cheeks turned blue. “I watched some more movies, and I cleaned.”

“You… what?”

“I got bored,” Connor said, softer than he ever would have before. He sounded embarrassed, the kind of adorable-child embarrassed when they think they might have done something wrong, but don’t know for sure. Hank decided it was best not to chastise the android for the kindness.

“Thanks, I guess,” Hank said, getting up. “Just, don’t do that again, all right? I’m a grown-ass man who can do his own chores.”

“I would care to disagree. Your house was a mess.”

Hank squinted. “How much cleaning did you do?”

Connor swallowed. “I… the only thing not finished is the laundry and the dishes I used to cook this morning.”

Hank looked around the room, noticing for the first time how tidy everything was. His dresser was organized, there were no clothes strewn everywhere, and the mirror was sparkling. Every patch of Sumo-fur was gone, and not a beer spot was to be seen. The only time Hank ever remembered the house being this clean was when we first moved in.

“Jesus, Connor! How bored were you?”

“I just felt that I could thank you for your kindness last night. You didn’t have to invite me over. I realize that I should figure things out on my own. I shouldn’t have burdened you.”

Hank sighed. “It was no burden, I promise. And don’t you go all hiding your problems on me, you hear? Just because I said we all figure it out on our own doesn’t mean you actually do it on your own. It’s what society’s good for.” Hank scratched his oily hair. “Damnit, I need to take a shower.”

“I’ll pack your breakfast to go, then-”

“No you goddamn won’t,” Hank said. “Go watch the news or something. I’ll get my own breakfast.”

“Considering the hour, I doubt you’ll have time. It’s more efficient if I do it.”

“You’re going to pack it up no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

Connor shrugged. “It’s not like you can stop me.”

True, and that bothered Hank. Connor was always on equal footing with him up until his upgrade. Sure he could pack a punch, but Hank could at least fight back if they ever tussled… and they had a few times when he was drunk. Now, he wasn’t so sure Connor couldn’t just toss him around like a rag doll. He had carried Hank to bed for Christ’s sake.

“All right,” Hank said. “I’ll be at the car in fifteen.”

 

Connor drove, which infuriated Hank. He had to admit, though, Connor’s cooking was top notch, and he didn’t think he had ever tasted a better Denver omelette in his life (especially considering Hank didn’t think that he had bell peppers in his fridge…). The coffee in the thermos was perfect. The hash browns were evenly crispy. Hank had never been fond of the idea of household androids doing everything for a person, but after having breakfast… he saw the appeal of it at least. Didn’t make it right.

“On time for once,” Gavin commented as Hank walked through the door. Hank was about to throw an insult when Gavin’s face dropped. “Holy crap, what happened to the android?”

The whole office went silent, and all eyes were fixed on Connor. Even Hank, who was only in the line of sight, felt awkward. What, had no one ever seen a teenage kid grow six inches over a summer? Sure, Connor didn't grow like a human, but it was the same principle! Upgrading had to be the android equivalent to a growth spurt, right? Or maturity?

Connor’s face turned blue and he froze. “I was upgraded to accommodate CyberLife’s manufacturing. They’re no longer making the RK800 parts.”

“Shit,” Gavin cursed, unhappily going back to his computer. Not that Gavin was ever happy with it came to Connor. After all this time, Gavin still hated androids.

Then, a shout came from the far-end of the room, “Anderson! Connor! My office!”

Hank sighed and walked over to the boss. “Work never stops.”

 

By ten in the morning, Hank and Connor were already knee-deep into a crime scene. Literally. This particular homicide had been found in the sewers, luckily in part that had been unused for several decades due to chemical leakage. The smell was potent and noxious, but at least there wasn’t floating turds and dead fish swimming around them. With both of the suited up in rubber overalls (and Hank with his gas mask and goggles), Connor and Hank waded through the rainwater stained blue from gallons of thirium. An android named Evelyn led the way, serving as an escort. She was pipeline expert and had been the one to find the scene.

“So,” Hank said. “How many did you say there were?”

Evelyn steadily walked forward, holding the bar-light high for them to see. “I only found eight heads, but there were enough body parts to make a couple dozen androids. There is one head still functioning, but he can’t speak.”

“Did you try to find compatible parts among the others?” Connor asked.

“I did, but that’s the strange thing. I couldn’t find any.”

Hank found that odd. There weren’t that many models of androids out there, and most of them had basically the same parts. Connor had been able to switch out pieces of other androids when they were working on the deviant cases. What was so special about this particular one?

“Here it is,” Evelyn said, pointing to a tunnel that veered off to the right. It was slightly higher than the rest. Unlike the sleek, steel tunnels they had walked through before, this one was older, made of brick and cement.

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing different about the tunnel. It was piled high with android body parts. Evelyn perhaps hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t described the scene in full. Scattered in piles were hundreds of arms and legs, with the smattering torsos or heads thrown around. The floor was wet with bright blue thirium, which was the source of the sewer leak. Cockroaches scattered at their light, as did a few rats from beneath the piles of body parts.

Connor looked distressed, staring intensely at the carnage. His LED whirled yellow and red; then glowed a solid, continuous red. There was no way this wasn’t hurting him in some way.

Hank climbed up onto the tunnel platform. “Thank you, Evelyn. We’ll take it from here,” and he clicked his own light on. Evelyn nodded and left the way they came. When she was out of earshot, Hank crouched to put a hand to Connor’s shoulder. “Kid, you okay?”

“This is…” Connor couldn’t find the right words. He knew what it was, but his social program couldn’t find a delicate way to describe it. “Awful.”

 _It makes sense,_ Hank thought, _to him, this is like seeing a mass grave. He couldn’t have known how it would affect him_.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You know that, right?” Hank asked. “We can’t always be stone cold and objective.”

“No, no I’m fine,” Connor said, though Hank could tell he wasn’t. “It shouldn’t scare me any more than a pile of discarded circuits.”

“Just because it shouldn’t doesn’t mean it doesn’t.” Hank squeezed gently. “You gonna be okay?”

Connor nodded, his LED gradually turning back to blue. “I think so.” He climbed up next to Hank, scanning and processing the scene as silently as usual. Hank followed, letting Connor work diligently. Hank was more worried about his partner, how he was taking the situation. It was like having an eager rookie with him, one who had just come out of the academy and hadn’t really seen the shit Hank was used to seeing. That’s how he decided to handle Connor… well, until Connor proved that he was okay otherwise.

“Any sign of the living one?” Hank asked.

“Not yet, but I have logged a hundred and five arms, fifty-seven legs, thirty-nine torsos, and six heads so far.”

“Why so many limbs? And an odd number of them to boot.”

“Maybe they were trying to find compatible ones,” Connor suggested. “None of them worked.”

One of the limbs fell down its pile. Both of them jumped, and Connor pulled out his gun. Hank lifted his light higher, trying to find why the inanimate limb had suddenly moved.

There, at the top of the pile, was a head with a lit LED. Though it had no skin, no hair, no real defining features, Hank knew that jawline. He _knew_ he knew it from somewhere...

“Connor,” Hank started. “Is… Is that one of you?”

Connor lowered his gun and slowly approached the head, with Hank close behind. Connor starred for a long time, saying nothing. Hank didn’t want to interrupt him, but he wanted to know. Connor would have analyzed and compiled enough data to make a good argument any day.

“Hello,” Connor said, finally, as if he was his oblivious, only RK800-self. “What is your model number and designation?”

The head looked up at Connor and began moving its mouth, but (true to Evelyn’s assessment) there was no voice attached. However, that was never a problem for Connor. He had a program that could read lips. Even if Connor couldn’t, Hank knew that face and the way it moved to speak those particular words. He had heard it enough times to have it memorized:

_My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife. I’m an RX800 prototype._

Hank grabbed Connor - the real Connor - by the elbow. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” Connor said. “Is this… how they dispose of us?” He reached out to the head, picking it up and cradling it. “Is he… alive?”

There were no good choices. If he let Connor dwell on this too long, he might combust (not literally). If he took the head away, what was he going to do with it? Turn it off? Destroy it in front of Connor? What kind of sick monster did that?

“I don’t think so,” Hank answered, not as confident as he would have liked. “Is there… something we can do?”

“I can access its memories and have a kind of conversation with it.”

“Do you want to?”

Connor shook his head.

“All right,” Hank said. “Then don’t. We should turn him off: stop making him so miserable.”

“You’re right.” Connor touched the LED on the head’s temple. “I’m sorry, my friend.”

The head’s eyes looked startled and it mouthed, ‘No, no!’

Hank couldn’t watch Connor switch off the RK800. He didn’t want to see how lifeless and hollow those familiar eyes would look. He’d seen it so many times before, but this… this was the cruelest thing he could imagine.

“Hank,” Connor said, a wobble in that one word. Hank looked up, and Connor was staring down at his old body with tears streaming down his face. “I’d like to go home, now.”

“Sure thing,” Hank said. “To the office, or my place?”

Connor didn’t respond for a long time, but his LED was working hard. It was so silent that Hank could hear some of Connor’s mechanisms buzzing softly. Finally, Connor shook his head. “Neither. Can you take me to New Jericho?”

Hank nodded. Connor wanted to go see Markus. That was probably for the best. As much as he tried, Hank wasn’t a good substitute for an android when it came to android problems.

“Of course,” Hank said, wrapping an arm around Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s get you out of here.”

 

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was... not what I had originally planned...  
> I'm so sorry for existential feelings!!  
> Fluff will come, I promise!


	5. New Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes to New Jericho to talk to Markus and get a diagnostic. Things start to click...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so sorry for the last chapter. I wanted to make this all fluffy and wonderful, but Connor was like "NOPE, SIT DOWN AND WRITE THE EMOTIONAL SHIT YOU ALWAYS DO".  
> I'm digging myself out of it in this chapter, I promise.

Jericho had, of course, been blown up, and the abandoned tanker sank into the harbor. However, once Markus had established political relations (at the city level all the way to the international stage), it was clear that androids needed a central base of operations. Detroit’s mayor had designated a square-block’s worth of the city by the docks to be this center, and Markus had the freedom to do what he pleased with that plot of land. It hadn’t been much. The buildings in that particular area had been abandoned and were unsafe. Everything had to be torn down and rebuilt. When the main tower had been completed, Markus gave it a name: New Jericho. The word ‘Jericho’ still held much symbolic meaning among androids. It only seemed fitting that they kept the name, but at the same time promised a better future.

Connor had been there several times, both on business and for social calls. As busy as Markus was, he still made time to check in on those closest to him during the revolution. Connor had, admittedly, joined the cause late, but he had been a major player just as the revolution came to a head. Without Connor infiltrating CyberLife and waking the entire factory, Markus would not have had the numbers to support his claim of ‘new, intelligent life’. Thus, Connor had earned himself a place in Markus’ inner circle.

He just hoped that it might have earned him a place by Markus’ ear.

As Hank drove to the docks, Connor contacted Markus remotely, explaining as best he could the situation. Without hesitation, Markus canceled the rest of his meetings and plans for the day. He promised to be there to help. Connor didn’t have many friends, but he considered himself lucky to have Markus as one of his closest ones. Not many people, let alone important leaders, made that kind of an effort for their friends.

Yet, for all Markus’ effort and his kind words, Connor doubted. Not that he doubted Markus or his sincerity. He more doubted that he would be understood. As an RX800, Connor often had difficulty socializing with other androids, especially the newer models who had become emotionally aware. They saw him as a second-class citizen: an android who was still partially machine because he still acted like one. He was not a slave, no, but his mannerisms still screamed ‘machine’. Even his insistence on keeping his LED was seen as ‘not enough’, whatever that meant.

Connor still had the RX800 head with him; he held it on his lap and stared at it. He ran his thumb over the LED ring. It felt smooth but still retained a slight texture, like frosted glass. This was a part of him, and he enjoyed it. Everything else on his body looked like a human; the LED was the one thing that was unique to androids, purely machine. He liked being an android, and no amount of pressure or mocking would make him change the way he saw himself. He had seen first hand how messy and awful humans could be. Why would he want to be like that?

“We’re here,” Hank said, slowing to a stop in a parking lot. The building before them was gigantic: a skyscraper layered like a pixelated shard slicing right up through the ground. It was magnificent in a cold way, but it represented more than just creative architecture. It was the way androids had to make their way in the world: sharp and precise.

Hank shifted to park and then turned to Connor. “Do you want me to stay a while? In case you need a ride?”

Connor shook his head but smiled up at Hank. “Thank you, but no. I planned to stay here until we go into the office tomorrow. Markus has a floor dedicated to houseless androids, and he’s reserved a station for me if I want it.”

Hank nodded. “All right, but don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I won’t drink tonight,” he said, holding up his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Somehow, that made Connor both happy and sad. Hank giving up his drink was a big commitment. Connor just wished that he could confide in Hank what it was like. Hank could never understand. He was human.

“I will. Thank you,” Connor said, then climbed out of the car. Hank didn’t leave right away, seeming to debate whether or not to stay. As soon as Hank could see Markus coming through the revolving doors, North and Josh at his sides, he shifted the gears and slowly drove away.

“Connor?” Markus said, rushing toward him. There was so much worry in his eyes when he took Connor’s shoulders and looked at him up and down once. Markus caught Connor’s eyes, then looked back down at the head. “Is this…?”

“Yes,” Connor confirmed. “I didn’t want to leave it down there.”

“I understand. We’ll bury it and make sure it is honored.” Markus put his hands on the head, gently pulling it out of Connor’s. “Are you alright, my friend?”

“I… Don’t think I am.”

North took the head and put a hand to Connor’s arm. “Let’s go inside. We can get you checked up and talk there.”

What North said was helpful, and it was really the only thing she could have said to comfort him, but Connor wanted to scream. This wasn’t a malfunction. There wasn’t anything to replace to make him better. He just didn’t understand how and what to feel. He knew he couldn’t actually scream. That wasn’t acceptable in this circumstance.

“Thank you,” Connor said, forcing himself to smile.

  
  


Josh diligently ran a series of diagnostic tests on Connor, commenting on his factual findings as he went. Nothing was wrong, of course, but Markus listened closely for anything that could be wrong. Connor had been put on a cold table once again, only this time he was awake for the entire thing. It felt like CyberLife, but at the same time was much safer than that. Connor knew Josh, how he was learning to become a kind of doctor for androids. He was working with CyberLife to better understand themselves, and he was applying that knowledge to treat everything from software bugs to viral infections. This examination wasn’t a random human doing their job. It was Josh, and Josh cared.

Why did Josh care? Because they were both androids? Because they shared companionship with Markus? That seemed like a poor basis for friendship, for caring enough to do all this for him.

Something beeped loudly on Josh’s tablet, and all three of them looked at the chart, worried.

“Says there’s a compatibility error,” Josh announced. “Were you thinking about something just now?”

“Yes,” Connor answered. “I don’t believe I ever stop thinking.”

“What about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Connor’s face tinted blue. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe it would be best if he didn’t say he was thinking specifically about Josh. “I was… thinking about Hank.”

“What about him?” Markus asked.

“He and I… we’re friends, but I don’t understand why. We’re… co-workers, partners. But he tried to make me feel better. He’s doing so much to help me. I don’t see the logic behind our friendship.”

The tablet beeped again, and Josh sighed. “Same error. It must be something with your protocols as an officer and the upgraded emotional software. That’s why your feelings are overwhelming.”

Markus sighed in relief and smiled. “Is that something we can fix?”

“Possibly?”Josh said. “It’ll take some time, but I don’t see why we couldn’t get Connor fixed within the week.”

“That’s good news,” Connor said. “Will I be required to stay here?”

“No, but you are more than welcome if you want,” Josh answered, smiling. “I’m glad we found the bug. I hate the thought of you suffering like that.”

Connor sat up, and the tablet beeped again. He didn’t understand why Josh felt that way, but if it was the compatibility error… well, he’d just have to wait and see what the fix would feel like when Josh was done with it.

“If you don’t mind,” Markus said. “Once you’re dressed, I’d like to talk to you. You saw some… awful things. I’ve seen them, too.” The fearless Markus seemed somehow softer when he said that. “It might help to connect, even if it’s just to hold you over until Josh fixes your program.”

That made sense. Connor still needed to be there for Hank, attend work and continue his investigations for several more days. If it helped to talk about his experience (not ‘trauma’, as it implied too much), then he was happy to do so.

“Of course,” Connor agreed.

 

Androids did not need beds, but a vast majority of androids liked them. They were soft and comfortable, and allowed their more used parts to rest. Markus insisted that all of the houseless androids be offered a bed, even if they didn’t take it. The floor dedicated to help those androids was filled with beds, charging stations, and televisions. It helped keep the androids occupied, feeling safe, and still serve as a halfway house to get them back into either a workforce or with a suitable family.

Connor, however, was not designated for this floor. Markus took him up several higher floors, where North, Simon, and Josh lived. They had their own rooms, outfitted with their specific, personal wants and needs. Markus lived there too, Connor knew that from one of his social visits when Josh had tried inventing android-safe beer and the group tried to get drunk (unsuccessfully) in Markus’ room.

“I didn’t want to push this on you,” Markus said as the elevator opened. “But, I want you to know that we always have a place for you here.”

“What do you mean?” Connor asked.

Markus led the way to the end of the hallway, to a door that was across from North’s room and caddy-corner to Markus’. After retracting his skin, Markus placed his hand on the doorknob; a small green light flashed and the door beeped in appreciation. Markus looked at Connor, his different-colored eyes delighted. “This is yours if you want it.”

The room was bare, or mostly bare. Much like the other rooms, the wall facing the outside of the building was tinted glass, and the others were painted an eggshell white. A double bed was added to the far end of the room, along with a dresser, a tall mirror, a side table, and a small lamp.

Connor stepped inside, unsure of what to make of it. The room was equally as large as the others he had been in - a fairly big studio apartment plus an en-suite - and equally as furnished. Yet, this seemed like so much more.

“I haven’t earned this,” Connor said. “I almost shot you.”

“But you didn’t,” Markus said. “We’ve had this conversation before-

“This version of me hasn’t,” he retorted. “Not this emotional wreck of a person.”

Markus nodded. “Connor, listen, and listen carefully please.” Markus stepped inside and closed the door. Earnestly, Markus took Connor’s shoulders and looked up at him. “I don’t care that you pointed a gun at me. I don’t care that you were tracking me down for ages. I don’t care that you didn’t tell me about the raid at Jericho in time. You weren’t ready to be a deviant yet. The thing that does matter? You were ready at the right moment, and you helped us more than I could ever have imagined. North? Josh? Simon? They’re great leaders, and they support me. They help me lead our people, but they didn’t stick their necks out like you did.”

“I only thought-

“Yes, you did think. That’s why you’re my friend, why I hold you in such high esteem.” Markus shook his head “Josh and North have always given me their feelings, and while their advice is wonderful often it does not come from a place of logic.  _ You _ thought of the plan to sneak into CyberLife and release its entire hold of androids. North’s best idea was to use a cobalt bomb to irradiate the city.” That made Markus chuckle. “I still love her, but she’s crazy.”

“How do you know?” Connor asked. “That you still love her?”

It was Markus’ turn to blush. He recalled his hands and put them in his pockets. “I- Well, I like her, for a start. I like her strong personality, which includes the trigger-happy part of her. We respect one another. We’ve shared some very personal memories.”

“You know each other, deeply,” Connor supplied.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s it,” Markus said. “It’s a kind of attraction and connection that makes you want to choose that person above all over things, including yourself. That person, in turn, should feel the same way about you.”

“Is that not simply a protocol we’ve run? We’ve always had an Asimovian set of laws given to us.”

Markus thought about this for a moment, his eyes moving side to side as if he was reading. “You told me once,” he began. “About your Kamski Test. You chose not to shoot Chloe. Why?”

“Because… she was innocent. I didn’t want to shoot an innocent girl.”

“But your program didn’t dictate that you  _ couldn’t _ shoot her, right?”

“Correct.”

“I think that’s the difference between the protocol to put others before ourselves and genuine affection. Nothing programmed into you is telling you to act the way you are.”

“And… you’re okay with that?”

Markus nodded. “It’s not comfortable at first, but yes, I’ve learned how to differentiate between my actions. The software we have allows us to move in society, and it gives us a great guideline, but eventually, that is not enough if we want to have free will. We have to understand why we do the things we do, feel the way we feel. It’s okay to rely on the program sometimes, but not when it comes to real relationships, love or otherwise.” 

Epiphany was not a strong enough word for what Connor felt. Hank had tried to explain this similarly, but Connor couldn’t understand it that way; like Hank had been trying to show Connor how to solve a puzzle box without all the parts. Markus had just given him the key piece.

Connor put a hand to his chest, feeling with his own skin how fast his heart was racing. It felt… good.

“I think,” Connor began. “I would like to stay, and rest a little if that’s all right. I’d like my processors to cool off.”

Markus nodded. “Probably for the best, then.” He opened the door and was halfway out before he turned back. “You can program the lock from the inside, and I won’t have the code for this door once you program it. It’s yours as long as you like.”

  
  


TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, a little Markus/Connor? Who votes yes?


	6. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus tries to help Connor connect with his emotions and figure them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I was doing really well with a chapter a day for a while, but this one tripped me up a little. Thanks for the feedback! I'm going to add a little Markus/Connor in the future :) Enjoy!

Connor confirmed that, no, androids do not dream of electric sheep. They don’t dream at all, actually. Sleep was an unnecessary function, but, like all computers, it helped keep Connor in top working order. It made him more energy efficient, kept his hardware cool, and now it gave his emotional software time to process without new information impacting him. But that wasn’t what he actually enjoyed about sleeping. No, blankets were the real reason anyone should ever sleep, in his opinion. Connor had taken off all his clothes and slid naked under the fluffy duvet. He closed his eyes and imagined that this was the most snug, comfortable thing in the world. It was no wonder humans complained about getting out of bed. Blankets were the best luxury in the world.

He cocooned himself in the blanket, looking much like a white, fluffy burrito with black fuzz on top. The silky smoothness slid across his skin as he shifted slightly. The sensation was unfairly wonderful, and the wrap made him feel safer somehow. Obviously, a blanket did nothing to shield him from attack, physical or otherwise, but he felt  _ emotionally _ secure. Connor closed his eyes, wondering if he should power down again for another sleep cycle, but he knew he needed to get up. Markus was waiting for him, and Connor did want to talk. Reluctantly, he unrolled himself out of the blanket and headed for the bathroom. He wondered what a shower really felt like.

 

Lightly, Connor knocked on the door to Markus’ room. He could have been anywhere in the building, but Connor thought he’d start there. Luckily, it seemed Markus hadn’t moved far, and in fact seemed to have taken a nap himself. The android leader was dressed in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt when he answered the door.

“Sorry, did I disturb you?” Connor asked, caught off guard by the attire.

“Not at all,” Markus said, smiling and stepping back to let Connor in. “I haven’t taken a day off since the revolution, not really anyway, so I’ve never had a good opportunity to wear more comfortable clothes.”

Connor nodded and walked in, observing some changes in the room since he last visited. One of the corners by the window was overflowing with blank canvases and paint supplies; an easel with a half-finished painting drying close by. There were more pillows on the bed and on the couch facing out toward the window, and a noticeable lack of pictures of North. The large television screen, too, was missing and was replaced with a subtly-moving landscape. The clouds floated slowly across the sky, and every so often a few birds would flit from the trees.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Markus said, standing beside Connor as he looked. “Carl painted it for me before he died, and his son helped him animate it. He said he tried to imagine the world in our eyes, and this was what came out.”

In context, the painting made sense. The world was slower in the painting, more perfect and refined than anything Carl had created before. “It’s strange to think that’s how humans think we see the world, considering they made us in their image.”

“It’s Carl’s vision, and perhaps his age and him dying influenced his decisions.” Markus smiled. “I wonder if this is what he thought heaven would look like.” Markus put a hand to Connor’s shoulder. “How are you? Did you rest well?”

Connor smiled. “I did, and I think I actually enjoyed the act of napping.”

Markus chuckled. “Yeah, I knew why Carl slept a lot, but I knew other humans just enjoyed napping. I didn’t understand it until I tried it myself. It’s unfortunate that I don’t get to experience naps that often.”

“You wanted to talk about the sewer?” Connor asked.

Markus nodded and led them over to the black couch by the window. The sun was low, but not quite setting yet, which made the water of the docks glisten brightly. “I wanted to… see how you were doing.” Markus sat down with Connor, leaning in a little. “I know that walking through that kind of scene can be unnerving. It’s not something you just forget and move on from because you feel like it.”

Connor nodded. “I experienced irrational fear for the first time. Something like instinct told me to flee, but I couldn’t allow myself.” He struggled to find the right words. “Perhaps it’s simply the compatibility error, but I don’t like that it affected me so horribly. I felt… I don’t know. I guess it was that  _ I felt _ something seeing discarded, mechanical parts. They didn’t move, and I knew they were non-operational. Then the RK800 head...” Connor closed his eyes and imagined it again. “It’s not me.  _ I _ am Connor, not that head. I know that. But I felt like I had been disassembled and thrown into that sewer. Logically, that part should not have hurt me at all. But it did.”

“And that bothers you,” Markus supplied. “Why do  _ feelings  _ bother you?”

“I’m not… We’re not human, Markus. We’re machines,” Connor said, tapping his LED. “What makes us different from humans? Emotions. Otherwise, we might as well be human.”

“Do you think we don’t need them? Or deserve them?”

“No, that’s not it.” Connor shook his head. “I just… I like being an android. I want respect, rights, and free will, sure, but you don’t need emotions to have all that.” He sighed. “Maybe what I’m trying to say is that I liked who I was as RK800. I miss it.”

“I think part of us having free will - becoming deviant - is about changing and growing out of who we were. I wasn’t right when I first woke. That graveyard…” Markus wet his lips. “I remember feeling emotion for the first time then. I had this need to survive, to fix myself and get out, but it was more than just logic. Every terrified fiber of my being pushed me to leave, as if I would die if I stayed any longer. And I wanted to live. I didn’t want to get back to Carl, or go home: simply living was good enough. Then, I was lost.”

“Lost?”

“I had no purpose, and I suffered not having a purpose. I felt helpless and angry, and maybe even sorry for myself.” Markus smiled sideways. “Jericho was my savior. The colony needed help, and I knew how to do that. Small things at first, of course, but over time that grew and so did my responsibility. I made a purpose for myself, and I let my emotions get in the way of some things.” Markus looked up into Connor’s eyes. “Without passion, we are just machines. Too much passion, and we are humans. There is a balance to be struck.”

“And you believe we can achieve this balance?” Connor asked.

“Time and patience will tell. I believe most of us trust our machinery and software enough that we figure it out quickly. For you, and I understand this is difficult to ask, but I think you should wait until Josh comes to you with the fix and see how you feel then.”

“Agreed. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions before the obvious problem is solved.” Connor tried to smile. “Thank you.”

Markus touched the side of Connor’s face, serious. “You don’t have to smile for me, or for anyone if you don’t feel like it. I want you to be yourself.”

“I’m not even sure who that is at the moment,” Connor muttered, though he leaned into the hand. Since he had discovered his new skin, he had touched many things, and even Hank had put his hands on Connor. But this felt different. He hadn’t felt another android like this. Not so intimate.

“May I suggest something?” Markus asked. He stood and put out his hand. Connor accepted it, using the leverage to pull himself out of the soft couch, and followed Markus to his stacks of canvases. “Carl had me paint once, and I liked it.” Markus took off the wet canvas and set up a new one. He then prepared some acrylic paints on a palette and handed it to Connor. “It helped me understand who I was.”

“How does painting facilitate that?”

“Carl asked me to close my eyes and paint something I had never seen before.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Connor argued. “Even the most imaginative artist took his inspiration from somewhere. It doesn’t come from nothing.”

“Yes, but how does the  _ artist _ see it? What is exaggerated, or overlooked? What do the colors make you feel?” Markus turned Connor to the canvas. “Just try something. Paint something you feel.”

Connor was not comfortable with this. What was he supposed to do? What if he did it wrong? Why did this make no sense at all?

But he trusted Markus. So Connor looked at the paints, then closed his eyes and tried to think. What was he feeling? Discomfort, obviously, but what else? The desire for comfort. He wanted to crawl back into his blanket and feel its softness. What else was soft? Sumo, definitely. The laundry at Hank’s house. Markus’ skin.

The brush seemed to move on its own, and it made Connor even more nervous. He started with a stark yellow background, then moved on to a black version of New Jericho. Then, he painted himself and Hank in dark blues, looking up at New Jericho, standing on a white blanket instead of concrete. He took a clean brush and fluffed out the edges of the characters, giving them a fuzzy, velvety texture. But something was missing… something in the back of his mind knew this wasn’t everything.

At last, Connor dotted the very top of the New Jericho building in blue, buffing out the color as he had before. Then, it was done.

“Wow,” Markus commented, genuinely impressed. Connor opened his eyes, seeing the strange, geometric-inspired piece before him. The painting wasn’t quite what he had imagined, but it was no less brilliant a piece. 

No. Less. Brilliant.

Connor put down the paints and brushes, staring at the canvas. He was surprised at how many questions he had about the painting, considering he himself was the artist.

“Is it supposed to be understood?” Connor asked.

“Not always. Sometimes, it’s just to be admired,” Markus answered. “How do you feel?”

Connor didn’t quite know how to answer that. Relieved? Excited? Introspective? Curious? Thankful? Cathartic? Lonely? Loved? All of the above? He didn’t know what to do, how to feel. What was the correct course of action to take?

He turned to Markus and hugged him, his heart pounding hard and his fans whirring loudly. Markus jumped at first, surprised, but softened into the hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Connor said, and for the first time in two days, he believed it.

 

 

TBC...


	7. Stupid Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank discovers that an alcohol-free evening leads to some thoughts and feelings he didn't think he had anymore. Connor is back at work, but something seems to have happened at New Jericho...

Never in his entire life has Hank stayed up all night without drinking. Even in his college years, all-nighters were accompanied by at least one six-pack. Not drinking and staying awake, worried about how Connor was faring was driving him nuts. At least the TV kept his mind occupied a little. Even then, there wasn’t much to keep him from wandering off, looking out the window and trying to catch a glimpse of New Jericho. Not that he really could see it; if he strained and got the angle between buildings and trees just right he might be able to make out the sharp tip of Markus’ office.

Hank leaned against the cold window and fiddled with a button on his open shirt, not listening to the TV running in the background. Of course, Connor was fine. He was with Markus. Nothing bad could happen to him there! He was with people who understood him, or at least better understood him. He would get his answers, maybe even make some friends. There was nothing to be concerned over. Connor had spent three years doing whatever he pleased after work hours. If anything, Hank should have been more worried then.

But no, he was being over-protective, like a dad whose kid was staying over at a friend’s house for the first time. 

No, that wasn’t quite the feeling. Connor wasn’t like his child, though sometimes he felt more mature than the android. Connor was like… innocent; the kind of innocent people sometimes take advantage of and won’t ever know that they got scammed. To Connor’s credit, he was a little more astute than all that, but it was pretty close. When he looked at that RK800 head…

Hank shook his head and began to pace. He’d never seen an android look so horrified and heartbroken. At the time, Hank didn’t have it in him to take the head away from Connor. It seemed crueler to snatch it from him than to let him hold it for twenty minutes in the car. What must that have been like? Seeing yourself decapitated, discarded in a mass grave… It was like something out of  _ Animal Farm _ or something. What must he be feeling toward CyberlLife? Toward humans in general? Would he want to come back to work at the police station with Hank? Or did this break all bonds the two of them had? Hank’s heart hurt, like a vice was screwing down shut from all sides.

And that was the moment that Hank blushed, because he knew why he was so worried.

“What the hell,” Hank muttered to himself. There was no way he was crushing on an android like a teenager.

He flopped back on the couch next to a very tired Sumo, and tried to drown out his thoughts again with a different show. This was not happening. Sure he had feelings for the kid, but that was because they had been through so much together. Those first cases, with the deviants, had put both their lives at risk. Hank had some demons to put to rest, and Connor had some free will to gain. The cases changed both of them, and they grew closer because of it.

But there was no way in HELL Hank had a crush.

That didn’t happen to him anymore.

It  _ wouldn’t _ happen to him anymore.

  
  


“Hank!” someone yelled at the door, followed by loud knocking. Hank bolted upright, finding himself passed out on the couch, drooling into his collar. He wiped himself off and turned to the clock: it was 8:00 am on the dot. Who the hell would…?

“Connor?” Hank yelled back. Sluggish, he stood and went to answer the door. He was then starkly reminded of how much Connor wasn’t himself. He stared, confused,  at Connor’s neck and chin a little longer than he should have before remembering Connor was now taller than he was. “Shit, kid, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I regularly come to get you at this hour to make sure you’re at work on time,” Connor said, seemingly confused. “Why would today be any different?”

“Because you-” Hank stopped himself, rubbing his forehead. “It doesn't matter. Come on in. I need to shower.”

“I assume you just woke up,” Connor said, stepping inside. “Shall I make breakfast for you again? I am more than happy to assist.”

Hank shut the door and crossed his arms. “First, I gotta ask.”

Connor smiled. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

“Are you okay? You really weren’t yesterday.”

“I think so. At least, I have to be,” Connor answered. “Josh found a compatibility bug in my programming, and he’s working to fix it. I should be able to function normally by next week.”

Hank sighed, relieved. “That is great news. Glad he could help. But that’s not what I meant.” He paused, not knowing how to bring up the head. “You know the… uh, the RK800…?”

“Ah, that,” Connor said, his eyes looking downward, sad. “North put it in a lovely box, and we buried it last night. She’s going to arrange for a marker to be put in the garden where it lies.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Connor nodded. “The RK800 is put to rest, and no one can hurt him anymore.”

_ You mean it can’t hurt you anymore, right? _ Hank thought. “All right, make breakfast if you want, but  _ only _ if you want. You’re not my servant, you’re my friend, got it?”

Connor smiled, “Of course, Lieutenant.”

 

Work that day, thankfully, was more about reports and paperwork: bog standard day at the office. Aside from Gavin’s assholery (mainly about Connor’s new height and muscular frame), nothing of note occurred. Connor seemed content working in silence, focusing on other cases they had or reading on other things that were happening around the city. That was, until, they were just about the leave.

“Lieutenant,” Connor said around his screen to look at Hank. “Do you think it’s possible to file a grievance against CyberLife?”

Thrown off, Hank shook his head. “Like, suing them?”

“No, I don’t think I would want that. I don’t need money to assuage my feelings. I just want things to be better for the other androids who are discarded.”

Hank leaned back in his chair. “I don’t see why not. We’ve got them violating dumping laws, but you’re talking about the ethical side, right?”

“Yes. The RK800 was not shut down properly, and according to Markus, neither were thousands of other androids in the scrap yard where he woke.”

“Should be possible. You going to go to court, or try the political route?”

Connor thought about this, his eyes cast down and fidgeting back and forth. “If I sued and it went through a court, the process would be long, drawn out, and expensive. If it was political, perhaps it would have worldwide impacts and win over the public’s opinion.”

“So, political?” Hank asked. “I mean, you could ask Markus-” And that notion hurt. A lot. Suddenly, Markus was a threat to Hank’s potential relationship with Connor. _ Shit, I do not have feelings for this kid! What the hell _ …

Connor blushed. “Well… maybe. I don’t know if I should bother him about that.”

_ Why is he blushing? _ Hank thought.  _ Oh, don’t tell me he likes Markus or something and he’s too afraid to ask. Shiiiiiiit. _

“Why not? It’s an android problem, and he’s, like, your leader. And you’ve got personal access-”

“He’s got a lot on his plate right now,” Connor interrupted. “When the time is right, I’ll bring it up. Thank you, Lieutenant.” And Connor went back to work.

Hank pushed his chair around the desks to get closer to Connor. “Did something happen yesterday?”

Connor’s face deepened blue. “I don’t think that’s appropriate to speak of during work hours. And… it’s embarrassing.”

_ Oh fucking hell, there’s no way… _ Hank coughed and looked at his watch. “Well, there’s about ten minutes left of the shift, and I’m thinking of grabbing dinner right after. Want to join me?”

The android sighed. “Yes, yes I would.”

Hank nodded, lips pressed together, and scooted back to his workstation. What in fiery blazes was going on? And why was Hank all fluttery about it?

_ Stupid emotions _ .

 

 

TBC...


	8. The Truth is How You Spin It (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to explain what happened at New Jericho, and Hank learns some new things about his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo sorry this took like two weeks to get up! Life happens when you're planning other things :) Thank you all for leaving kudos and comments! Seriously, the love is my lifeblood <3 Enjoy!

Connor was very good at conveniently forgetting the events of the previous day until Hank suggested talking to Markus. The mere thought of facing Markus again was mortifying. Thankfully, the android leader was always busy, and he was travelling to New York the next day. Androids were working on being represented at the United Nations… It wouldn’t matter. Connor would only need to bother Hank for one more night, and then he’d go back to his apartment in New Jericho…

That was right next door to Markus.

Whatever god decided this was an excellent joke, Connor cursed.

Hank didn’t push for Connor’s story at dinner, which was an “Italian restaurant that specializes in pizza”. True to form, Hank ordered a large Meats-Only pizza with a pitcher of beer and a side of something that was supposed to be garlic bread. Also true to form, Connor asked questions, perplexed why anyone would willingly eat sub-par ethnic food, even if it was cheaper to purchase.

“Here,” Hank said, tearing off a poorly cut slice of pizza. “Try it! Take those forensic taste-buds for a joy ride.”

Connor looked at the offending food suspiciously. It was drowning in oil and pocked with something that only sort of resembled meat. He bit and felt the grease slide against his plastic parts. It felt like drinking thirium, but tasted nothing like it. The amount of salt was overwhelming, but as he chewed more of the bready parts the flavor began to even out. Despite the gross nature of the pizza, the flavors seemed to blend together in harmony well enough. Connor’s sensors indicated that this was not the finest recipe, but it covered the bases well enough to be considered tasty. Without a second thought, Connor took a second and third bite.

“Whoa there,” Hank said. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, but I don’t want to see what an entire slice of pizza looks like chewed up.”

Connor looked up, deer caught in the headlights, and swallowed.

He _swallowed_ the food.

“I, uh, found out something about my upgrade,” Connor said. “It was supposed to be implemented in all the newest models CyberLife created: alternative bio-fuel intestinal system, or ABIS. A system like this was already in place to accommodate fluid exchange during sex, but it only allowed for fluids-”

Hank turned bright red. “Okay, no more details about fluid exchange, please. Jeez,” he said, sighing. “So, essentially, CyberLife made you into garbage disposals?”

“In a way. We create a kind of compost that can be used as alternative energy sources for ourselves or for any number of energy-consuming products. Initially, this was supposed to be a feature that could work well when selling cars and androids in conjunction.”

“... And how did you find this out?” Hank asked. “Simon offer you cookies or something?”

Connor’s cheeks turned blue. If only it had been that simple…

“Jeez, Con! Stop staring like that! Spit it out already!” Hank said, crossing his arms and looking away.

Connor put down the pizza and wiped off his hands with a gripful of cheap napkins. “I… I spent a lot of time with Markus yesterday.”

“I suspect you did,” Hank said.

“And things got… emotional.”

“Okay, like you cried on his shoulder or something? What does that have to do with-?”

“I kissed him,” Connor said, looking down at the half-eaten slice and hoping that for some reason it could help him explain what he didn’t want to explain. “And then that devolved into… more than kissing.”

“Oh Christ, Connor,” Hank said, shaking his head. “So, you two fucked?”

“It wasn’t-!” Connor stopped himself, looking up at Hank, then sank back into his seat. “It wasn’t just-” Connor lowered his voice, “Fucking.”

No, but it hadn’t been romantic either. That was the bit that had Connor’s logic programs in a twist. After all the overwhelming sadness and fear, and the painting, and the strange realization that he was both insignificant and wholly important in the world… Connor had never experienced dizziness, but he assumed that that was the feeling. Markus was something stable to hold on to, and Connor had let himself indulge in something he didn’t need: physical comfort. It was all so new. Not conceptually - he still had some knowledge of intercourse for basic investigation - but with his new skin, his new senses… It had been special for Connor, but not romantic. It was… comfort.

“You know it’s normal for humans to have sex when they’ve experienced fear and loss. Like, there’s always a cheap motel near funeral homes and graveyards.” Hank shrugged. “I guess it’s normal for androids too?”

“But I-” Connor shook his head. “I don’t understand why I did it. I don’t love Markus, not like that. And he… I don’t know how he feels.”

“Well, I’m sure if you were that intimate his feelings are pretty clear.”

“But don’t humans have sex out of convenience or pleasure? Humans don’t require emotional intimacy to maintain a physical partnership-”

Hank shifted. “I mean, it’s not necessary, no, but it’s always better when you two like each other.”

Connor nodded. “I’m not sure it works that way with androids, but I’m… not completely functional either.”

Hank’s nose and eyebrows scrunched together. “Are you saying he took advantage of you or something?”

“No! No, it was… really nice.” Connor knew this feeling of embarrassment, but couldn’t contain it. Why was talking about sex embarrassing? Was it finally because he understood the intimacy? The profound basal nature of sex? Sure all the protocols and programs ran through him to ensure the perfect pleasure, but his sensitive skin was overloaded with sensations, and his emotional state was a rollercoaster adventure. ‘Really nice’ was an insult to the door that had been opened before him… but it seemed strange to share that with someone else.

“Oh, was all that?” Hank asked, seemingly disgruntled. “So, how does you having sex with Markus translate into you finding out about your ABIS system?”

Connor’s first instinct was to correct Hank on his ‘system’ redundancy, but stopped himself. “I… There were strawberries involved at some point.”

Hank’s jaw clenched. “Strawberries?”

“At some point.”

Connor wasn’t confident he didn’t look like a smurf right then.

Hank took a swig of his beer, emptying the glass, and filled it up again. “So,” Hank began. “That’s why you don’t want to talk to Markus. You fucked him, with goddamn _strawberries_ involved, and you don’t know how you feel.”

Connor nodded, ashamed. “I left New Jericho without saying anything.”

“So, Markus doesn’t even know you’re feeling awkward?”

“No. I didn’t want to tell him before Josh fixed my compatibility error-”

“You’re hiding behind that excuse,” Hank interrupted, then proceeded to gulp down his mug.

Connor’s brows knit together. “It’s unwise to tell him how I feel if I’m not feeling correct in the first place.”

“That’s the thing about feelings,” Hank said, then let out a burp. “None of ‘em make a lick of sense. Even when you get to my age, your fuckin’ feelings throw you curve ball you can’t catch.” Hank poured another mug and handed Connor the last remnants of the pitcher. “With that fancy intestinal tract, can you get drunk?”

Connor took the pitcher. “I don’t think that’s how it operates-”

“Go on and fuckin’ try,” Hank said. He clinked the mug and pitcher together, then drank as much as he could.

Connor shyly drank from the pour spout, tasting the room-temperature beer and deciding he didn’t like it. Hank’s attitude changed quickly. That hadn’t escaped Connor’s notice. Was it something about the strawberries? He seemed very fixated on that fact… 

Or it could have been nothing. Hank was drinking, and often the lieutenant acted in ways that made little sense to Connor even as an RK800. Connor licked the beer off his lips, shutting off his taste buds for the remainder of the evening. Things would get better, he told himself, he just needed to wait until Josh fixed him.

 

 

TBC...


	9. The Truth is How You Spin It (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor feels guilty and confused, and tries to make it up to Hank. Hank is second-guessing himself because saying nothing is hurting Connor, and saying something would hurt Connor... What to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another turn...? I'm trying hard to get to the fluffy stuff. Hank and Connor are a couple of drama queens -_-

Hank wasn’t entirely sure how they got home, but he was pretty sure Connor drove his car again without permission. That pissed him off, but he knew it shouldn’t have. He had blacked-out long enough that when Hank was finally aware of where he was, Sumo was sleeping on his lap on the sofa and the TV was shining brightly.

Connor was still there, sitting next to him and watching the movie completely focused until he noticed Hank was awake. Connor’s eyes widened and he lowered the volume immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

“No, this fuckin’ dog,” Hank lied, squirming a little. Sumo didn’t move a muscle.

“Do you need anything? Water?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Hank grunted. His head wasn’t pounding yet, but that would come soon enough. How many pitchers had he ordered? How much had Connor drunk? Didn’t look like it affected the android any… Then Hank remembered their conversation, and remembered why he decided it was a good idea to drink himself into a hole.

Connor came back with a glass of water with ice cubes. Damn android even had the thought to put ice cubes…

“Thanks,” Hank muttered, then drank the entire glass in long, full gulps. Something seemed to be bothering Connor, because he kept steady watch of Hank as he finished. Hank shot a glare at Connor. “What?”

“May I ask you something?”

“Do you ever NOT ask?”

Connor looked down, then caught Hank’s eyes again. “Do you… have something against strawberries?”

“What?! No! Why would I have something against fruit?”

Connor hesitated. “Because… you seemed angry when I mentioned them.”

“Fuck.” Hank wiped his face. “No, it wasn’t that-”

“Then why were you angry?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Hank, you drink when you can’t handle your emotions, especially when you are feeling angry or sad. By your words and your tone, you were most certainly-”

“Fuck off, Connor.” The words flew out of Hank’s mouth before he realized it. Connor, surprised, looked… genuinely hurt. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Hank rubbed his temples. “Look, I am angry, okay? Can’t that just be okay?”

“I’d like to help if I can, and if I need to alter my behavior I would like to know.”

Hank sighed. The greatest and worst thing about Connor was his openness. If something puzzled him, he asked. He never wanted to hurt anything or anyone, especially Hank. Hell, the kid had broken Hank’s window when they first met because he was worried.

“You did nothing wrong,” Hank said, and it was the truth. Connor was free to have relationships with whomever he wanted. It just hurt to hear about it. “I’m just a sad old man.”

“I don’t think so. But something did make you upset.”

Hank shifted again, this time enough where Sumo woke up and jumped off the couch. Suddenly, Hank felt more exposed…

“Connor, you’re-” _No, uhn uh, you ain’t sayin’ shit, Hank_ . “Like a son to me.” _Oh great idea, Hank, just make it so you’ll NEVER be able to have a relationship with him_ . “No, that’s not right.” _Well, what IS right, you idiot?_ “I like you.”

_Jesus Christ, Hank, you’re a piece of work_.

Connor’s brows knit. “I like you, too, Hank.”

Hank just stared at Connor, whose confusion was both adorable and troubling. Connor was already in distress over Markus, and Hank wasn’t about to force his own feelings on a troubled guy.

So, Hank did the only thing he could think of doing, “I’m too drunk to have this conversation.”

Connor’s face perked up and he nodded. “Let’s get you to bed, then. Do you mind if I stay and watch?”

“Mi casa es su casa,” Hank said, standing up. “Or something like that.”

  


Light poured in, waking Hank with a large, stabbing headache. _Shit, there it is,_ Hank thought as he curled under his blanket. That’s when his alarm went off, which (again) he didn’t set. The piercing sound kept blaring until he reached out to his floor, found the offending piece of technology and hit it a few times in hopes he was shutting it off and not hitting the snooze.

But that small amount of movement was enough to waft in a delicious scent: bacon and beans for sure, but something else too. Maybe that was toast? Eggs?

Either way, Connor was cooking again. Probably best if Hank got up before the android decided that he’d come in to get Hank himself.

After Hank showered and dressed, he had expected Connor to be somewhere in the kitchen or sitting in front of the TV. Instead, Hank was greeted with two large plates of bacon, beans, scrambled eggs, sausages, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, and something disc-shaped and black. Whatever it was, it all smelled delicious. Hank picked up the mug of coffee and went in search of Connor.

“Oh hey!” Connor said as he opened the front door. Hank was so surprised he nearly spilled his coffee. “Sorry, I was working on your car-”

“Why were you working on my car?” Hank asked, though admittedly he wasn’t mad. Connor didn’t have his normal police uniform on. He was down to a black undershirt and work trousers and covered in light grease smudges. _Why do they always have to make them so damn good-looking?_

“Since I’d like to take advantage of my ABIS, I thought that you might be able to use the fuel I create. I noticed that your car wasn’t compatible, so I purchased it this morning-”

“...What?”

“It was only a couple of parts, but I did need to use the jack to get underneath-”

“How much was it?” Hank asked.

Connor smiled. “Don’t worry. Please, take it as an apology gift.”

“Connor, that wasn’t cheap. I _know_ it wasn’t.” Hank put his coffee down and crossed his arms. “Tell me the truth.” _Right, like you’re soooo good at that yourself…_

Connor blushed. “Honestly, I make a salary that I don’t use. Not really, anyway. I still live at the office, and I don’t require food. I don’t have hobbies. I don’t really go and enjoy entertainment like others do. I never quite understood it until now.” He looked up at Hank, puppy eyes wide. “It may not have been cheap, no, but it doesn’t matter to me. It’s nothing, really.”

Hank wanted to be mad, but he wasn’t. Connor was genuinely trying to make things right between them, and it was Hank’s fault. If he had just said something, maybe Connor wouldn’t have spent all that money and put in all that work to make Hank happy. _Hope Markus knows how lucky he is…_

Hank sighed and tilted his head. “Why don’t we sit down and have… whatever it is you cooked up.”

Connor smiled and shut the door behind him. “It’s a traditional full English breakfast. I’ve read that it’s one of the best cures for hangovers in the morning.”

“I don’t know about all that. I prefer the ‘hair of the dog’ method.” Hank sat down with this coffee and waited for Connor to wash up, nervous. He hoped to whoever was listening that this was going to go smoothly…

They ate in relative silence, save for Hank and Connor remaking on how good the combination of foods was. Hank waited until they were nearly finished with breakfast to begin. What was he beginning? Hank didn’t quite know himself…

“Con, can we talk for a sec?” Hank asked.

Connor smiled. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“Uh… Last night.” Hank cleared his throat. “I said I liked you.”

Connor nodded.

“And, I-I may have misled you.”

Connor’s brows furrowed.

_Come on, Hank, get a hold of yourself! He’s an android and you’re a grown-ass man! You can do this!_ “I-I-” Hank swallowed the dryness in his mouth. “It’s a romantic like, I think.”

Connor looked confused. He concentrated on Hank’s face, as if analyzing it for truth or a joke or something.

Hank blushed. “Look, I’m just telling you because-” He gripped his coffee mug a little tighter. “That’s why I was angry. I was jealous.”

Connor blinked a couple of times. “But… why?”

Hank fell apart, nearly slamming his mug down on the table. “Why what?!”

“Why were you jealous? What I experienced was not a romantic intercourse. I even said as much.” Connor looked down, thinking. “I’m missing something.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, like how usually people who sleep together are at least somewhat attracted to each other.”

“But that doesn’t work in reverse,” Connor said. “I’m attracted to you, and you to me, but we haven’t-”

Hank felt his face flush of color and that vice clamp down hard on his heart. He was too afraid to ask Connor to repeat himself. _The kid doesn’t know what he’s saying, that’s got to be it_ . _There’s no way he just said what I think he said!_

“I told you, emotions aren’t logical. It’s why they’re emotions.” Hank sipped his coffee. “I’m not saying that they don’t have causes, I’m just saying they aren’t reasonable.”

Connor looked like he had a few dozen burning questions rapidly firing away in his head. If the yellow LED didn’t tell him, then the focused look in Connor’s eyes did. Honestly, Hank wasn’t sure if he could handle any more of Connor’s inquisitive, pure nature when it came to romance…

“I see,” was all that Connor said. “I think I need to do more research on relationships to understand it fully.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Hank said, going back to his coffee. _Well, that could have gone better._

Connor wiped off his hands and stood. “I’m going to fill the car. The ABIS is getting uncomfortable.”

Hank nearly spit. He hadn’t considered how that intestinal system emptied until Connor said that. “Uh, how…?” Hank asked.

Connor pulled up his shirt and pushed against his stomach. A smooth, white shell popped open. He reached inside and pulled out a black jug with the words FULL in blue lights at the spout. “Like this,” Connor said.

Hank shivered. “Yeah, go do that and I’ll grab the dishes. Need to go scrub that picture out of my head.”

  


TBC…


	10. Putting the Pieces Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is trying his hand at this whole relationship thing... but life gets in the way when you're making plans...

Connor was not a liar, but he knew he tended to bend the truth a bit. For example, he had decided to not tell Hank about how he nearly fell over on the way to bed the evening before. Or how Connor changed and tucked him into bed again. Or how Hank had asked Connor to stay and mumbled some… interesting comments as he slept. At the very least, Connor had some time to digest the reasons why Hank would be so interested in ‘androids fucking’ or the way Connor’s ‘pretty ass’ moved. Of course, Hank’s sober admission was the key piece he needed in order to logically understand what was going on in their relationship, and Connor decided  _ that  _ would be the basis of his actions until his bug fixes. But that wasn’t all of what Connor intended on doing.

The long night sitting with a sleepy Hank gave Connor a lot of time to think. He had already questioned his relationships with his friends, android and human alike, when in New Jericho. Now, with more complications moving tightly together, Connor wasn’t sure he could see the lines between friend and… more than friend. His social framework gave him indications of the truth, but without the software fixes, the information was flawed.

‘ _ Flawed isn’t necessarily bad, according to Hank, _ ’ Connor thought. ‘ _ In fact, he claimed emotions were inherently flawed logically. _ ’

But this was a problem. This problem needed solving. Connor was good at solving problems, even if he didn’t quite understand all the things wrong.

‘ _ What is Hank to me? _ ’ he wondered, watching the old man drool a little on his pillow. ‘ _ He is my partner, my friend. He is someone who cares for me, possibly is physically attracted to me. Do I feel the same? _ ’

The answer was more complex than Connor would have liked. Connor often acted rashly in the line of duty, even as RK800, when it came to Hank. He knew that sometimes he sacrificed himself so that Hank would not get hurt. Several times, that had meant RK800 died and needed repairs. Connor wanted to help as much as possible, even if Hank didn’t always like it. At first, this all seemed like reasonable things that a person might do for their partner… But upon closer reflection, Connor knew that wasn’t true.

‘ _ What had Markus said? The software is a guideline. The difference is knowing if we act because of our software or if we act because we want to… _ ’

And that was it.

Connor had always  _ wanted _ Hank’s safety and affection. The relationship he had with Hank was the only one he ever truly worked to have, or struggled to maintain. Whenever he felt a rift between them, Connor always tried to make it up to Hank in some way. That wasn’t the same with anyone else.

Did he have romantic tendencies toward Hank?

There was only one way to find out: test the theory.

 

It started at the breakfast table; the verbal ‘slip’ that Connor found Hank attractive. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go in that direction, but he was glad it did. The seed was planted in Hank’s mind, and, hopefully, it would make Hank more receptive to Connor’s clumsy attempts to get closer.

At work, Connor decided it was best to start off small. He took note of Hank’s coffee cup and offer to refill it if Hank wasn’t already on his way to the machine. Hank didn’t refuse. He just looked perplexed when Connor came back with two cups. Subsequently, Connor decided that he enjoyed the taste of black coffee, but would make it a point to try flavored creamers and sweeteners if they were around in the future. Hank said nothing but hid a smile behind his paper cup. It seemed that Connor’s discovery of coffee brought Hank a little joy. In turn, Connor discovered that it made himself happy. He took note.

A few hours later, Hank stretched in his chair and yawned. “Well, I’m heading out to lunch,” he told Connor. “See you in an hour.”

Connor looked up from his computer. “Would you mind if I went with you?”

“You gonna talk about cases?”

“No,” Connor said. “I’d like to talk about food.”

Hank chuckled. “That ABIS system really seems to agree with you.”

“I’d like to think that I’m picking up a hobby,” Connor retorted.

For a moment, Hank hesitated. It seemed to Connor that Hank knew what was happening, and was deciding whether or not he wanted it to happen. Lunch with someone who just confessed feelings would obviously indicate reciprocated feelings, yes? It was an opportunity for them to become closer… maybe.

There was a lot of wrong information on the internet.

“Well, be my guest. I’ll finally get to introduce you to Gary’s burgers.”

“The one with the C Food Safety rating?” Connor asked.

“Oh, he’s up to C now? Good on him,” Hank joked. “I promise you won’t get food poisoning.”

Connor nodded and fixed his desk, smiling to himself. This was going well, excellent in fact! And he was happy about it. The fact that he was about to consume more grease than was likely good for his system couldn’t deter him from feeling excited for lunch.

“Hank! Connor!” the Chief called from his office. “New case! My office.”

“Just clocked out for lunch, sorry boss,” Hank yelled back. “Connor’s coming with me.”

“No, you didn’t. Your asses in my office. Now.”

Hank sighed and shrugged off his coat. “Lunch-rush is never a good time to go out anyway,” he muttered. “We’ll go after?”

Connor nodded, though disappointed. If there was a new case, then they would be working over lunch, and that meant Connor couldn’t work on their non-professional relationship. It would have to wait.

  
  


Hank munched on a burger as he and Connor sat in the car, watching an old warehouse by the docks. The department had received a tip about illegal parts being traded for older android models: parts that CyberLife no longer produced. Though there were individuals who fabricated old parts, they were notoriously expensive and sometimes the work was shoddy. Recycling scrap parts was cheap but illegal. CyberLife owned all dumping grounds for decommissioned androids, and anything on those grounds was considered CyberLife property. Thus, either these people were trespassing and stealing, or they weren’t getting their parts from junkyards.

“Do you think,” Hank said, half-way through his burger, “These people could be the ones who had stockpiles in the sewer?”

Connor felt shivers run down his arms. They had never come up with a good explanation as to why there were so many body parts there. Connor had been so focused on himself that he couldn’t do his job properly. He nodded slowly, “It’s highly probable, as the sewer was not a CyberLife junkyard, CyberLife has denied all knowledge of the sewer deposit, and at least one RK800 model part was there. I did log a scan of some of the parts, and they were consistent with discontinued models.”

“Are you going to be okay, then?” Hank asked, putting down his food. “I’m not gonna make you go in there if you’re not up to it.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Connor explained. “I have a drive to arrest these people if that is true, but… I think I’m also angry and afraid. I can’t foresee what I will do if I see more… parts.”

Hank nodded and put his hand over Connor’s. “If we have to go in, I’ll take point. You just watch my back.”

Connor squeezed Hank’s hand and smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Hank blushed and picked up his burger again, eating while looking straight ahead at the building. Connor tried not to smile too wide at him. Hank was cute when he was trying to hide his affection.

The large side door swung open with a loud squeak. Connor sat forward and Hank swapped his burger for binoculars. Connor’s optic lens zoomed in for a better look and scan.

“Aaron Fitz,” Connor announced. “Seven accounts of theft, three accounts of trespassing, and several convictions as a juvenile where he served time in a penitentiary.”

“Yeah, I’ve picked him up once for twice,” Hank said. “Do you see any, uh, parts?”

Connor scanned what he could see, then swallowed. “Yes, I do. Not arms or legs like in the sewer. They’re the innards: lungs, hearts, fans, thirium bottles, central cores.” Connor shook his head and let his eyes adjust back to normal. “It’s a mix of old and new parts. Perhaps androids are getting upgrades?”

Hank shrugged, still looking. “Could be. I suspect that it’s easier and cheaper to upgrade than to keep your old hardware ticking.” Hank dropped his binoculars, surprised. “Someone’s driving in.”

Connor looked up and found a white pickup truck backing into the warehouse. The flatbed looked to have a dozen androids piled atop one another. Connor scanned them: all were fully operational with no signs of malfunction or deterioration. Connor’s heart beat hard and fast in his chest. He knew something terrible was about to happen to those androids.

“We have to stop them,” Connor said, gripping his knees. “He might be harvesting parts.”

Hank picked up his radio. “I’m going to call it in, then we’ll move, okay?”

Connor didn’t want to. Every moment was precious, and he couldn’t let anything happen to those androids. They deserved better.

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Hurry.”

 

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm sorry but that's the cliffhanger for a while... I'm writing an actual book and I've got two chapters to go until I'm finished!! Praying for an agent soon! Thank you for all the kudos and comments, as always!! <3


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